Whiteout
by Min the Noodle
Summary: Your very presence comforted me, driving away my fears like a candle in a dark room. And I feared everything. But more than anything else, I feared the snow. -Mewtcentric-


A/N: What's this- an update from Min?! Scandalous!

Thanks, loves, for staying with me this long. Special kudos goes out to Link015, my favoritestest, for being straight-out awesome, and to Sage8675 for inspiring me to take a shot at the FFTA fandom. Also, ShadowSight101 for being the best little sis _ever_.

N'joy. R&R'ers are loved forever.

**-Whiteout-**

You asked me once about this "other world." You were curious, I could tell; your eyes were intent, flickering with a look interest that I, alone, have ever seen. It was unusual for you to take interest in anything. It was new, and it scared me that you would suddenly focus on the one thing that I was always trying to avoid.

I never gave you a straight answer. Instead, I brushed it off, distracting you with babbled tales of the daily going-ons of palace life- who had displeased Mother recently, the ladies-in-waiting's latest scandals, the explosion in the mages' wing that set fire to every blue thing in a half-mile radius. You listened patiently, but your interest wasn't there. When you pressed me gently about the "other world," I grew defensive, claiming that I remembered nothing about it whatsoever. To cover my guilt even more, I forbade you to speak of it again, saying that it caused me pain just to think about it. You obeyed, of course, but there was a subtle disappointment in your eyes. But what could you do?

Nothing. I remembered nothing at all.

I lied to you that night.

The thing I remembered most was the snow.

You were everything that I was not: strong, handsome, brave. You were my ideal, the one whom I looked to for assurance in times of need. You were always there to protect me from the stares and the gossip, from the swords and the malicious snarls, both equally cutting. Your arms were strong; they were always there to hold me when I awoke screaming at night from the nightmares that haunted my every step, nightmares of sharp rocks and hurled words. And always snow, that never-ending shower of silent flakes that stifled every sound and blocked out everything from my view.

I envied you, you know. Who wouldn't have? You were perfect, the ultimate warrior without flaws of any kind. Invincible. And I was weak, always weak, running to you in tears whenever reality threatened me with its sharp, ugly teeth. But you were always there for me, the only thing solid in a world of constant change. Your very presence comforted me, driving away my fears like a candle in a dark room. And I feared everything.

But more than anything else, I feared the snow. I feared that it would return someday to Ivalice, fluttering down in drafts like the wings of some white, monstrous bird. You see, my love, I could still faintly remember the days when Ivalice was not the sprawling desert kingdom that it is now. Once, a long time ago, Ivalice was a simple snow-crested village, with ice-lined pathways that wound between cottages and high-rise apartments. These were the days before The Book, when Ivalice was a place where children beat each other behind the gym after school and fathers staggered home at two in the morning, reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke. I could faintly remember a boy named Mewt who never spoke, save a few words to a sharp, white-haired girl named Ritz and a shy, quiet boy named Marche. He was alone, constantly teased and bullied by his classmates; all three of them were, Ritz for her hair and Marche for being the new kid in town. Mewt used to cry at night, sobbing into his pillow for hours. And outside his window was the snow, always falling, always falling. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was nothing but a dream, the voice of a child named Mewt was always there in the back of my head, sobbing as the snow drifted down around him.

If the snow comes back, that means that the dream has become reality, and this reality- this wonderful, amazing, color-rich world that I love more than life itself- will shatter and fade back into the dream that it has always been. I'm not ready to face reality. The _real_ world, not this beautiful dream. Facing reality means going back to the Ivalice of broken families, of little girls shunned because of their white hair, and snowballs packed tightly with rocks and hate. It means facing Mewt and his bruises, his battered heart and his aching silence. It means losing you: my shield, my anchor, and my other half.

This is the reason that, every day, I kneel in the castle sanctuary and pray that the snow will not return. For when it does, I will lose everything- my family, my friends, my voice itself. The fear never fades, growing stronger as each day passes, and the laws grow with them. Yes, I hear the whispers. I know of the bloody riots in the streets, but I'm past caring. Don't you see? I have to keep Marche from changing Ivalice back to the way it was. The snow must not come back. He must be stopped, and I will outlaw breathing itself if that will keep him away from me. If I have to kill the one boy who befriended me, I will do so with no regrets- even if I have to do it with my own hands.

I don't care what it takes. I will never go back.

**-Fin-**

Note: Extra cookies to whoever can guess who the "you" in the first paragraph (and throughout the story, really) is. Thanks!


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